The moment all the staff left and the door closed behind him , Alexander Hastings exhaled.
Silence.
Beautiful. Pristine. Blessed silence.
He loosened his tie with the dramatic flair of someone auditioning for a soap opera.
"Okay," he said to no one in particular. "Let's take inventory. I've survived corporate takeovers, shareholder revolts, and a three-day retreat with Damien Carter and his juice cleanse. But apparently, what finally breaks me is…"
He stared at the wall.
"Twice," he said, pacing now. "TWO. BLOODY. TIMES. I adjusted the show for her twice. Do you know how many times I've changed a format in my entire career? ZERO. Because chaos is for amateurs. And clowns."
He stopped by the window, dramatically silhouetted like Batman—but more emotionally constipated.
